“Ah! now indeed the sun shines upon me. Yes, I am back from London--a most terrible place--terrible--terrible--terrible! As I walked along just now I said to myself: 'The sun is warm, the skies are blue; yonder is the laughing sea, and yet, Bruno, you sigh for Italy.' This is Italy, Miss Hilda--Italy with a northern fairy walking in it!” Hilda smiled her quick, surprising smile, and hastened to speak before the old gentleman recovered his breath. “Allow me to introduce to you Sidney's friend, Mr. Vellacott, Signor Bruno!” Sidney's friend, Mr. Vellacott, was by this time behind her. He had alighted, and was employed in arranging the back seat of the dog-cart. When Signor Bruno looked towards him, he found Christian's eyes fixed upon his face with a quiet persistence which might have been embarrassing to a younger man. He raised his hat and murmured something unintelligible in reply to the Italian's extensive salutation. “Sidney Carew's friends are, I trust, mine also!” said Signor Bruno, as he replaced his picturesque hat. Christian smiled spasmodically and continued arranging the seat. He then came round to the front of the cart and made a sign to Hilda that she should move into the right-hand seat and drive. Signor Bruno saw the sign, and said urbanely: “You will, if you please, resume your seat. I will place myself behind!” “Oh, no! You must allow me to sit behind!” said Christian. “But why, my dear sir? That would not be correct. You are Mr. Carew's guest, and I--I am only a poor old Italian runaway, who is accustomed to back seats; all my life I have occupied back seats, I think, Mr. Vell'cott. There is no reason why I should aspire to better things now!” The old fellow's voice was strangely balanced between pathos and a peculiar self-abnegating humour. “If we were both to take our hats off again, I think it would be easy to see why you should sit in front!” said Christian with a laugh, which although quite genial, somehow closed the discussion. “Ah!” replied the old gentleman with outspread hands. “There you have worsted me. After that I am silent, and--I obey!” He climbed into the cart with a little senile joke about the stiffness of his aged limbs. He chattered on in his innocent, childish way until the village was reached. Here he was deposited on the dusty road at the gate of a small yellow cottage where he had two rooms. The seat was re-arranged, and amidst a volley of thanks and salutations, Hilda and Christian drove away. Presently Hilda looked up and said: “Is he not a dear old thing? I believe, Christian, in all the various local information I have given you, I have never told you about Signor Bruno. I shall reserve him for the next awkward pause that occurs.” “Yes,” replied Christian quietly. “He seems very nice.” Something in his tone seemed to catch her attention. She half turned as if to hear more, but he said nothing. Then she raised her eyes to his face, which was not expressive of anything in particular.